Thursday, July 06, 2006


"So here my journal begins, on a Tuesday nite when it's quiet at work. This day is dragging, like some kind of psychadelic iguana, dragging it's lazy carcass over some neon rock"

With these auspicious words, so began my one hundred and one reasons why I hate existence, just over a full year ago.

Psychadelic drug references not withstanding, it was a fairly ordinary entry by a disgruntled worker who just wanted to go home.

I've often thought about the final entry in this journal, and the words it would contain. I also expected to be a different person, a more evolved man sitting by the keyboard scratching his head, thinking of something funny to say.

A man profoundly moved and changed by his experiences over the course of a year. He would be older, wiser and have a fully stocked bar at home.

But before I continue down this path, lets recap for those of you just joining us...

My name's Jim. I'm a man looking at the world through dark glasses and a kaleidescope.

For the last year, I've used this blog to record my thoughts on the distorted reality I see around me every day. Some of it has been quirky and funny, some of it has not.

So far, I've faced threatening teenage girls with neon claws, tried to quit smoking once, squared off against Bea Arthur in a scissor fight, worn some cranky pants, seen the ghost of Gwen Stefani, been mauled by Jesus, bought a new phone, found a comfy chair, been afraid of Ikea, contemplated the meaninglessness of relationships and my own existence and even found the time to stalk Kelly Clarkson.

So it's been a wild ride. A wild, painful, emotional, exhilirating, nauseating, glorious ride.

This last post also coincides with my last day at Foxtel, the job I have been at for the better part of two years. In essence, my family.

Yesterday was a tremendous day, filled with vast quantities of confectionery and many heartfelt goodbyes. Still I cant bring myself to come to terms with the loss. To quite completely fathom the end of that place.

So right now, I'm caught in constant flashback mode, my memories of the last twelve months forming a giant collage in my head. A collage of random memories and fleeting moments when I understand what it is to be human. Waking up next to a loved one, a comfortable silence with a dear friend, hollowing out a pumpkin for my very first Halloween.

I'll take that collage and put it in a macaroni frame. I'll hang it on my wall and look at it whenever the sky gets dark or the walls start closing in too much.

Merely another time in my life when one chapter ends, and another begins.

So now I look at the man who sits typing this entry at lightning speed. Who is he? Where has he been? How has he been changed? All questions that come to me at the end of this journey, on the last page of this book.

Is a man changed by his experiences? Does he learn from them? Will he ever surrender?

I'm astounded at how, fundamentally, I have changed so little. I'm still a spikey haired loser. Still just as confused about my place in the world as the rest of y'all. Still not allowed to use any kitchen appliances without adult supervision.

Maybe I've just learned to accept these things more.

I wish I could write a proper ending to this story, preferably a happy one. I wish I could write an action packed ending with a car chase and some explosions and lots of bikini clad waitresses pouring condiments over hot dogs.

I wish I could close this book and never want to revisit it again. Have no regrets. But life isnt like that, and while we always take the most important lessons with us on our journey, we often leave others behind.

So this is goodbye to all that. I'm bravely off to to try and walk the road, and maybe someday it will take me back here. I'm not sure. I've accepted a job as a courier, so if you ever wondering what I'm doing (and lets face it - you will), know that I'll be immersed in the fast paced world of package delivery, wearing nothing but a crooked smile and a baseball cap.

Thank you to all of my friends and loved ones who have been a part of my life in some form or another over the last year. Without you, my blog would be like a story with no characters (even though I'm pretty much a one man show most days anyway!)

Thank you to all of you who have been reading over the last year.

It's meant a lot to me that you've tuned in week after week. I hope I had the chance to make you laugh, and maybe, if only a couple of times, make you think. Stick with me, I'll be back soon.

I hope you've enjoyed reading as much as I've enjoyed writing.

Peace on your journeys, and remember to stay off the west side.

Yours Sincerely,

(Custodian / Caretaker)

Sunday, July 02, 2006


I'm gonna start this story by telling you all about my favourite Star Trek alien, the Gorn.
The Gorn is a large reptilian predator who once tried to kill Captain Kirk on planet Cestus III. He also has cropped up in the Mirror Universe where he tried to eat Scott Bakula.
But that's another story altogether.
You see, I have so much love for the Gorn (pictured), because I feel we're like blood brothers. If Gorns were real, I'd own one, chained up in my back yard and starved of food, just enough to keep him bloodthirsty enough to eat all my enemies at work.
Or better still he'd be my homie, and we'd ride around in my pimped up Mitsubishi, wearing an entire mint in bling, and telling everyone that crossed our bejewelled path that "they don't even know who they be steppin to!".
Back to the Gorn.
Yes. I love the Gorn because we're alike. The ferocious, bloodthirsty caveman is never far from the surface of my personality. I do what I feel like it - when I feel like it. And most times I like to be left alone, especially when I'm wearing that really 'intense face'.
So flash back a couple of nights with me. It's about 2:00am in the morning and I'm at the gym, punishing myself for half a packet of crispy M & Ms I had eaten earlier in the day.
I'm in the 'zone', meaning maximum pain and maximum endorphins. I'm like a wild man with weights as the sweat beads down my primitive brow.
It's during this time I notice a girl. Just an ordinary girl. I've seen many before. Except this one is on the Ab-tronic Pain-o-Tron, and she's doing it all wrong.
In my infinite wisdom, I decide to offer some frendly advice.
"It's a common misconception that crunches yeild better results. A complete sit-up will get your muscles moving more dynamically"
I said, reciting almost verbaitim what I had once read on the wrapper of my Protein Max bar...or what it Protein Blast? Either way - there was a considerable amount of protein involved.
"Thanks" she smiled back at me.
"Ah..." I thought.
I was stunned. Then relieved to think that I had helped someone and she had, quite wisely, chosen to take my advice.
"My boyfriend's really handsome, you know he kinda reminds me of you, except he's better looking...Ugh!...So what kind of car do you drive? I drive a Ford. But I used to drive a Mazda, it was far too small. Not nearly enough room for my kids...Ugh!...yeah that's right - I have kids, a little girl named Skye...Ugh! You wouldnt think so huh, I mean to look at me...Ugh!...We're practically the same age!!"
This girl, whose name I have since forced myself to forget, continued to rant just about anything and everything as she stalked me around the gym, suddenly proclaiming we were now 'gym buddies'.
Now initially I felt some rapport with this girl, after all she was at the gym on a Friday night, so she probably had the same sort of social life I did. But as she ranted, unabated by the lack of oxygen to her brain, I began to regret playing the part of handsome, helpful stranger.
She would punctuate each thought with an exhasperated "Ugh!" and a flourish of her hand (with flourescent pink nailpolish) babbling at breakneck speed. It was like being stuck in an elevator with Kathy Griffin.
"My dog's anme is Callie, she's a German Shepherd...Ugh!...The're such beautiful dogs, I always try to..."
So yet again God has decided to smite me for being helpful.
"...a leave in conditioner is just essential, especially for coloured hair...Ugh!..."
God has decided to send an annoying, avenging angel in retaliation for helping a stranger work out her abs.
" I said 'Dylan, if you dont put that down, I'm gonna give you such a beating when we get home!!' and just like that he put down the knife...Ugh!...Kids just need to be disciplined more, dont you think?"
I should have just thought of the Gorn, predatory and stoic. And above all else, silent.
" my friends ditched me tonight...Ugh!...such bitches!....Ugh! where do you like to hang out? You know you really should get out more. Go out and have fun. Meet someone pretty like me...Ugh! Of course I'm taken, but I'm very flattered that you're interested..."
Right. I think I need a new Gym.
the end.

Wednesday, June 28, 2006


Yup, this is still fucken funny. I've also included a message from Whitney herself.
If you would like to know more, go and see America's Greatest Christian

"Bitches messed up on crack is a cause close to my heart. Are those Reese's
peanut butter cups?

Oh, and I have been very busy during the past year
raising Christian crackwhore awareness. Dig?

I want to take this moment to thank God Almighty for
making me His special messanger -- Hey Bobby! I got
you something special right here, baby!

[Lifts up her already too-short skirt]

Yeah, it ain't all you can eat, it's all you care to eat!
Yeah, you know that right, baby!

Anyway, what I was saying is that I try to be real Christlike and sh-t. Dig?
Hey, Bobby, was that that Porsche I buy you at the
bottom of the pool this morning, baby? Anyway, what was I saying?"

-- Whitney Houston

Monday, June 26, 2006


Observe the following conversation I had with my washing machine the other day:

"Good morning washing machine! How's your shit?"

"Good bro, what up dawg?"

"Ah you know… I got a whole bunch of dirty clothes here that I've been sleeping on. They were getting kinda funky, so I thought I'd bring em in"

"Dude that last bunch of stuff you brought in was rank. Haven't you ever heard of Kleenex?"

"Don't judge me. You know how it is".

"Still, you could at least try and pick something white".

"Errr…could we not talk about this?"

"Sure, whatever man. If you're gonna be all Dawsons Creek about it. Just gimme your damn clothes, I'll sort em out".

"Thanks mate"

"You're going to die"


"Nothing. Nothing dude, sorry. Just talking to myself again. Don’t mind me".

"Nah, dude! You totally said something to me! Are you threatening me? Am I being threatened by a whitegood?!"

"No! No! It's all good"

"Right. Well maybe next time you decide to put the hard word on me, you'll remember who controls the electricity round here, eh?'"

"No worries boss. Will do..."

(I start to walk out the door)

"…Cause I live to wash up your coffee stains! And your dirty socks, and fuck knows what else you get on your clothes you filthy little scrote!"

"Oh! Oh! I so totally heard that!" You were whispering under your breath, but I fucken heard that!! You bastard!! You utter bastard!!"

"Well whaddaya expect, dumbass!? I'm stuck in this dead end job washing your sweaty gym jocks all day. Gotta have something to amuse me. Things just haven't been the same since Lois left me"

"Who's Lois?"

"My Wife".

"Dude, you have a wife?"

"Yeah. She filed for divorce three weeks ago. Rotten bitch has my kids, too".


"Yeah - their names are Napisan and wonder white"

"Ha ha. Everyone's a fucken comedian. If you're done being sarcastic, maybe you can get some fucken washing done?"

"Yeah, yeah no problems…"

(I start to head out the door again)

"Can I touch your hand?"

"Dude, are you coming onto me?"

the end.

Wednesday, June 21, 2006


In which our hero's privacy is invaded by a robotic peeping tom.
Come with me, if you will, on an odyssey into my room. Where action figures are at the top of the food chain and piles of dirty socks and jocks form gently sloping hills over my crumb encrusted floor.
It is here, my friends, that I retreat to ever night. Hoping to escape the hectic pace of my rampant social life and the drudgery of my mindless soul destroying job.

So imagine my surprise the other night, when I learned that my once impregnable room has fallen victim to a spy.
I speak of course, of Gort - mechanical man given to me as a heartfelt gift. Granted I adore having this vintage momento the The Day The Earth Stood Still standing proudly in my room, however this mechanoid has since illicited my suspicions.
On many a night I have observed him moving on his own accord. He frequently changes places in the room while I am at work, and his visor mysteriously opens when I have porn on the television.
Which brings me to my segue about an intriguing episode which took place a couple of nights ago. Lets set the scene...

It was cold outside, and I was tucked away in my warm toasty bed. The rustling leaves brushing against my window made a soothing noise. With my episode of Red Dwarf coming to an end soon, I decided to do what most teenage boys do when they're cosily tucked in their beds.

That's right - I went there.
Anyway, I was almost finished with my copy of Swinger when I made a startling revelation - Gort was watching me. Perched up on his shelf, he had a direct line of sight to where I was in my bed.
His visor was open, and I could see a voyeuristic gleam in his eye. Well…I spose he doesn’t have eyes, but he was leering at me like that naked guy at the bus stop does.
So here we are in a day and age where robots watch me masturbate (See how much I share with you?). Yet another episode in my life where I tell people and they respond with a quizzical look, usually followed by a swift
"What the fuck?"

Now this was the last thing I needed after suffering a splitting headache and a wave of euphoria after being haunted by the images from Muse's Supermassive Black Hole video.
It's also fuelled my mistrust of robots of all kinds.
When I was 18, the vending machine at my workplace launched a world wide manhunt for me in an attempt to steal my DNA. I was forced to go underground and wear a black turtleneck for several weeks.
So just remember - you read it here. It's forever etched in cyberspace. My robot remains unpunished, and from this day forward I'll just use the cubicles at work like everyone else.
the end
PS: Crack is Whack!

Sunday, June 18, 2006

I'm sorry, but this is still so fucken funny!

Wednesday, June 14, 2006


I often daydream about being able to command the loyalty of animals.

It started recently when I read about these Swedish genetic engineers who created a 25 foot carnivorous Starfish that would rotate and sweep the ocean floor clean, consuming all the fish and other edible things around it.

The animal world is one that fascinates me. Sea creatures in particular. They live in another universe, deep dark and blue (sometimes black) breathing salty water like I breathe in the contaminated air from my cigarettes.

Ever since I was a kid, I have loved animals (despite a track record of animal cruelty that would make Ed Gein blush). Doctor Doolittle managed to talk with them somehow. I don’t ever believe he attended any sort of medical school, and don’t care to speculate on his motives for all that time spent with animals. My suspicion was further aroused a few years ago when said Doctor became Eddie Murphy.

That aside, a few days ago, I was attempting to telepathically communicate with my dog. He does not yet respond to verbal commands, and only ever pays attention to me when I threaten him with the hockey stick that Angry Nick gave me.

As I gazed into his pathetic hazel eyes, we shared a moment of synchronicity. A milleseond of understanding. Granted, only moments later he resumed his four hour yapping session, but I still got through.

I recalled my childhood dream of having en entire army of animals at my disposal. I would enslave them in my basement by means of electrocution.

There would be the super intelligent Baboon, who would sit in shackles, doing all my homework. At night he would work in the Asian sweatshop in my attic.

The overworked Pelican that would swim around all day and clean my pool.

And of course the Albino Howling Monkey that would remain at the front of my house and ward off any unwanted salesman or Jehovah's Witnesses with it's constant, ear piercing screaming.

There was also a drug addicted Sloth who would lie motionless on my rug each day, eating all my ketchup. Even as a small child I was wise enough to know that there would be no future for this mooching Sloth and eventually it would have to be put down by lethal injection.

This army of slaves would of course be spearheaded by a giant Squid, who would travel via a series of underground canals that my construction team would design. These water filled canals would be outfitted with electrodes to ensure obedience.

Motivated by fear of electric shock, my giant Squid would swim the canals of the city, doing my bidding. It would smite my enemies. Block up traffic. Bring home food for the other animals.

It would return to my house at night time with the Mars Bars, Comics and Action Figures that I wanted.

The moon would rise and they would all congregate in a specially build shed (except for the Baboon - he has to go to work).

Yeah, I was kind of a messed up kid...
the end